


Return

by regenderate



Series: Tara is Alive, Well, and in Love with Fred Burkle [5]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 07:52:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14374275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regenderate/pseuds/regenderate
Summary: That night, Tara laid next to Fred on the floor of Dawn’s room, feeling almost at home, and almost useful. As she struggled to fall asleep, she heard Dawn’s snores and Fred’s incoherent mumbling, and she realized how much she had missed being a part of a family.--After joining Angel Investigations in s6 (AtS s3), Tara goes back to Sunnydale with her new girlfriend, Fred Burkle.Part of a series. If you haven't read the series, you mostly need to know that Tara went to LA in s6 after "Gone" and is now dating Fred.





	Return

**Author's Note:**

> this was NOT supposed to be this long. i thought this would be like 3k. maybe 7k. not 20k. but it's good to know i can write stuff that's this long. hopefully it's not too long!
> 
> EDIT: turned out i accidentally pasted this into the text box twice. it's not *that* long. but i fixed it

Buffy’s house was bustling. As Tara and Fred entered, they were almost lost in a rush of strange girls, and for a moment Tara worried that they would be. But then Dawn ran in and jumped into Tara’s arms, and Tara looked over Dawn’s shoulder to see Giles walking towards them, his expression something that Tara had always wanted to see on her own father’s face.

Dawn let Tara go, and she moved to Giles, who gave her a much gentler hug. 

“Um, this is Fred,” she said as she backed away. “Sorry if it’s not a great time for--”

“It’s a fine time,” Dawn assured her. “The more the merrier, right?”

Tara glanced at Fred.

“I assure you,” Giles said, “if you’re a friend of Tara’s, you’re a friend of ours. Despite our, ah, apparent lack of space.”

“Thanks, y’all,” Fred said, looking around. “I really don’t want to be a bother.”

“No bother at all,” Giles assured her. 

“Thanks,” Fred said again. They all stood awkwardly for a moment. Tara was about to say something--

But then a Potential came in, stared at Tara and Fred for a moment, and started asking Dawn about where she had put the crossbows. A moment later, Giles saw somebody behind Tara doing something irresponsible with a book, and Tara and Fred took the chance to retreat to the kitchen.

“It wasn’t always this busy,” Tara said, sitting at the counter.

“That’s okay,” Fred answered, taking a seat next to Tara. “I like busy, sometimes. It means I don’t have to think about all the things that are in my head.”

Just then, a girl came into the room, halfway through asking where something was before she even walked in. She stopped short when she saw Tara and Faith.

“Sorry. I thought you’d be Willow,” she said.

“She got held up,” Tara said. “At the hospital.”

The girl’s eyes flitted from Tara to Fred. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” Fred said. “We picked up another Potential on the way back from L. A. She was kind of bleeding pretty bad, so we got her to the hospital.”

“You’re not Potentials?” the girl asked, her eyebrows raised. 

“We’re Angel’s friends,” Fred explained. “We heard there was an apocalypse coming up and we couldn’t stay away. And Tara’s all witchy, and I’m good with the research, and Angel didn’t really need us, anyway.”

Something in the girl’s eyes changed. She was still for a moment, and then her gaze shifted from Fred to Tara. “You’re Tara?” she asked.

Tara nodded.

And then the girl was smiling a careful, practiced, smile, and she reached out a hand for Tara to shake. “Nice to meet you,” she said. “I’m Kennedy.”

_ Oh. _

Tara shook, and Kennedy gave Fred her hand, too, and Fred introduced herself. 

“Good to meet you both,” Kennedy said, backing away. “I just came in to ask Willow something-- I’ve got training to get back to.” And then she was gone, and Tara was left adrift in the kitchen, anchored only by Fred’s hand in hers.

“Are you okay?” Fred asked.

Before Tara could say anything, Dawn came bouncing into the kitchen and somehow managed to hug Tara even though Tara was sitting down.

“I can’t believe you’re back!” she cried. “You’re staying, right?”

“As long as you guys want me,” Tara answered, ducking out of the hug.

“I missed you,” Dawn said. “And now there’s no crossbow crisis, so I can talk to you.”

“You have nice friends,” Fred said to Tara, watching Dawn’s smile.

Tara smiled, but then grew serious. “Dawn, I have to tell you,” she said. “Faith came with us.”

Dawn’s face immediately changed. “You brought her  _ here _ ?” she asked.

“She’s better now,” Tara said. “She’s trying really hard, okay, Dawnie? Be nice to her.”

“She tried to kill Buffy,” Dawn said, still glowering.

“I know,” Tara said. “She wasn’t very nice to me, either. But sometimes you have to give people a second chance. Especially when they’ve worked as hard as Faith.”

“Fine,” Dawn grumbled. “But you have to be the one to tell Giles.” She turned and yelled. “Giles!”

Giles came ambling in from behind Dawn, already cleaning his glasses, looking distinctly disgruntled.

“Yes?” he said.

“Tara has news.” Dawn crossed her arms and stepped back.

Tara looked at Fred. “Um,” she said, “we brought Faith with us.”

Giles said nothing for a long moment. 

“I see,” he finally said. I assume she is not of the murdering persuasion these days?”

“She’s worked hard,” Tara said. 

Giles nodded. “Well,” he said, “she wouldn’t be the first to return here after a time of rehabilitation. And we could certainly use another Slayer. I just hope Buffy sees eye to eye.”

“Faith’s looking for her,” Tara said. “I think they’ll work it out.”

“Perhaps that is best,” Giles said. “I have never understood what goes on between those two, and I’m not sure I ever will. The bond between two Slayers is unprecedented and extraordinary.”

Tara smiled. She had forgotten how Giles always sounded like a Hellmouth textbook. It was good, because there weren’t really a lot of Hellmouth textbooks. And it was such a Giles way to sound, and Tara had missed Giles. She hadn’t realized how much Willow’s friends had become her friends until she had had to make new friends.

“I’ve never really seen them both in the same place,” Tara said. “Unless you count Faith in Buffy’s body.”

“It’s quite something to watch them Slay together,” Giles said. “Frankly extraordinary.”

The door banged open, and Tara jumped.

“Guess that’s them,” Fred said. 

“Oh,” Giles said. “You don’t mind if I--”

“Go ahead,” Tara said, gesturing towards the foyer. “We’ll be in here.”

From what Tara and Fred could hear, there was a certain amount of confrontation in the other room, but Faith was welcomed in, and a moment later, she joined Fred and Tara in the kitchen, pouring juice down her throat and wiping sweat off her forehead.

“Damn. Forgot how good a two-Slayer game could feel.”

“Buffy’s okay, then?” Tara asked.

“She will be,” Faith said, putting down the juice carton and shrugging. “Girl’s got a lot to deal with, you know?”

“Yeah,” Tara agreed. 

A few more girls came into the room, gathering around the counter and grabbing at fruit and cookies, their eyes on Faith, Tara, and Fred the whole time.

“Newbies?” one of them asked, flipping her blonde hair.

“Be nice,” another one, a redhead, said.

“Where are you from?” the third asked.

“Boston,” Faith said. “By way of Los Angeles Women’s Prison. I’m Faith.”

Tara almost laughed at how instantaneous the reactions were. They all backed away from the counter, eyes wide.

“The dark Slayer?” one of them asked, her voice comically low.

“More gray these days, morally speaking.” Faith said. “Just here to help out with the apocalypse. Just another day in Sunnydale, I guess.” She looked around. “I’ve missed this place. You don’t find nearly as many demons in prison.”

The girls turned their gazes to Fred and Tara. 

“Are you Potentials?” the blonde asked.

“Witches,” Tara said. “I mean, I’m a witch. Fred’s--”

“I’m learning,” Fred said. “And I’m good with the research, and the doom and all that. But I’m just tagging along, really. I’ve never seen an apocalypse before.”

The three girls looked at each other. 

“It’s not going to be fun,” the redhead asid.

“But it’ll be educational,” Fred said. “And I like to help.”

“So none of you are Potentials?” the third girl asked. 

“Been there, done that,” Faith said, leaning against the counter. “Not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“I think I’m too old,” Fred said. “They don’t take twenty-five-year-olds to be the Slayer.”

“Me, too,” Tara said. “But I'm only twenty-two. How old is too old?”

“Kennedy's oldest,” the redhead said. “She's nineteen.”

“So young,” Fred breathed.

“I'm fourteen,” said the blonde. “Our youngest is eleven.”

Tara stared. She knew, theoretically, that Buffy had been fourteen when she had been called. But that knowledge had never been so easily called to mind as now, looking at the girls in front of her. 

“I hope you're safe,” she said, knowing that they wouldn't be.

It wasn’t long before Tara and Fred were installed in a corner of the living room, a little bit separate from the mass of Potentials, trying to think what to do to help. There wasn’t much research to be done, and there weren’t really spells, either. Tara felt out of place until she saw the Potentials filter in, looking exhausted and bruised, and an idea hit her.

“We could make protection spells,” Tara said. “For the Potentials.”

Fred immediately took to the idea. “What goes into that?”

Tara started explaining the ingredients. “I don’t have all of them,” she said. “I left my bag in Angel’s hotel.”

“Should we ask him to send it?” Fred asked.

“No,” Tara said. “I’ll just— um— I’ll ask Willow if she has anything.”

“Are you sure?” Fred asked. 

Tara nodded. “There’s— there’s nothing wrong with that, is there?” 

Fred shook her head and kissed Tara. “You’re allowed to talk to her,” she said. “Not that you need my permission or anything, but you look like you won’t do it without  _ someone’s _ permission, so you can have mine.”

Tara gave Fred a shaky smile and stood up.

She didn’t know where to find Willow these days. She wasn’t about to go up to the room they had once shared— she wasn’t that brave. Especially since Willow had a new girlfriend now, and Tara definitely didn’t want to walk in on anything.

Willow wasn’t in the kitchen, but a lot of unfamiliar girls were. Tara dodged them, covering her face with her hair as she ducked into the dining room. Giles and Dawn were here, talking to Faith about the upcoming apocalypse. Dawn looked up when Tara came in.

“Hi!” she exclaimed.

“Hi,” Tara replied. “Um, do you know where Willow is? Fred and I are doing a protection spell, and I left all my magic stuff in L. A.”

“She’s probably upstairs,” Dawn said. “Do you want me to get her?”

Tara smiled gratefully. “Would you?”

“I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you. Um, I’ll be back in— in the living room,” Tara said.

Dawn left on swift feet, and Tara nodded to Giles and Faith on her way out. 

She rejoined Fred in the living room, and Willow joined them a moment later, carrying a little violet pouch and trailed by Kennedy. She handed the pouch to Tara. 

“It’s not a lot,” she said, apologetic. “I don’t let myself keep too much around. You know, because I’m still learning to be in control, and all that.”

“Yeah.” Tara hesitated as she took the pouch. “For what it’s worth,” she said, “I’m proud of you. For— for ending the whole magic thing.”

Willow smiled back. 

“It’s worth a lot,” she said. “Good luck with your protection spells.” 

“Thanks,” Tara mumbled. 

Willow walked away, Kennedy’s arm around her, and Tara turned back to Fred. Together, they spread their blankets out on the floor and sat on them, and Tara put the bag between them.

“So what do we do?” Fred asked.

“It’s a pretty simple spell,” Tara explained, looking into the pouch and taking out the herbs within. “We should find little bags or something, though, to put them in.”

“Does Buffy have anything to sew with?” Fred asked. “We could sew something out of clothes. I brought my fancy skirt. We could use that. I don’t think there’s much fancy going on around here.”

“I like your fancy skirt,” Tara said. 

“It’s replaceable,” Fred said. “These girls aren’t.” She pulled the long red skirt out of her bag. “Does Buffy have scissors?”

“Yeah,” Tara said. “I’ll go get them.” 

She stood up and walked through the next two rooms to the kitchen, where the scissors had once been kept in a drawer by the door. It had been a long time since Tara had lived here, but the scissors were still there, lying askew in the drawer amidst paper clips and pencils. She picked them up and went back to Fred, who had laid the skirt on the floor. Taking the scissors from Tara, she laid on the ground and started methodically and carefully cutting straight lines. 

“I’m going to find sewing supplies,” Tara said.

“Okay,” Fred said, absently. Tara wandered away, wondering where Buffy might be. Buffy would know where to find sewing supplies. Willow might, too, but Tara had already exhausted her Willow-favor-asking for the day. But Buffy was probably still patrolling, or cooling down from Faith, or something. So Tara went into the dining room again, where Dawn, Faith, and Giles were still doing research.

“Hey, Dawn?” she asked.

Dawn looked up. “Yeah?”

“Do you know if Buffy has sewing supplies anywhere? Like, needles and thread?”

“Oh, I have some of that,” Dawn said. “In a little kit. Does Buffy sew?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t know you did,” Tara said.

Dawn shrugged.

“I do art,” she said. “It comes up sometimes. I’ll go get the stuff.” She was halfway out the room, and then she stopped.

“Actually,” she said, “do you guys want to come up with me? You can sleep in my room, if you want. There aren’t any Potentials up there yet. And if you guys come up there, I probably won’t have to share with anyone else.”

“I’ll ask Fred,” Tara said. “You can come with me, if you want.” She led Dawn back into the living room, where Fred was surrounded by strips of skirt. “Hey,” she said, “Dawn’s offering to let us sleep in her room.”

Fred looked up.

“Okay,” she said. “Just let me get all this together.” She started gathering bits of skirt, and Tara and Dawn both bent down and helped her. They all carried fistfuls of fabric up the stairs to Dawn’s room. The floor was already covered with clothes— Dawn immediately started rushing around, shoving them into baskets and under her bed. Tara laughed a little bit. Everything about this house had changed, but Dawn was still living out her teenage life. 

“Sorry,” she said, kicking a shirt under the bed. “Sewing stuff, right?” She opened a drawer and pulled out a few spools of brightly colored thread and a packet of needles. “How much do you need?”

“How many Potentials are there?” Tara asked.

Dawn looked at the ground. “Lots,” she said. “They don’t really keep me updated, you know?” She shrugged. 

Tara kept her gaze fixed on Dawn’s face. 

“You don’t have to be a Potential to be important, you know.”

“I didn’t say that,” Dawn said.

“I know,” Tara said. “Come on. You can help us with the spell.”

Dawn’s face lit up. “Really?”

“Sure,” Tara said. “It’s simple.” 

Fred was already on the floor, laying out the different herbs. Tara sat across from her, and Dawn between them on one side, leaning against her bed. 

“So what do they all do?” Dawn asked.

Tara named and explained the function of each herb. “We won’t need all of them,” she said. “This looks like it’s just Willow’s emergency kit. There’s a lot of different stuff in here.”

“Okay,” Dawn said. “So, it’s going to be… this one… and this one… and this one?” She pointed to three herbs.

“And this one,” Tara said, pointing to another. “Good remembering, though.” She gathered up all the herbs they weren’t going to need and put them carefully back into Willow’s bag. Fred was sewing little pouches, so Tara turned to Dawn.

“You just have to gather them up,” she explained. “There’s a words part, too, but I’ll do that, okay?”

Dawn nodded. “How much in each bag?” she asked.

“Not too much,” Tara said. “Any amount will work, and we don’t have all that much.”

“Can we do the words over all of them at once, or does it have to be individual?” Dawn asked.

“We can do all at once,” Tara said, “but it’s going to take a while for Fred to make the pouches, so maybe we should do it one or two at a time.”

“Thanks,” Fred said, completely focused on sewing. “They’re not going to be pretty,” she warned.

“They don’t have to be,” Tara answered. “Just made with love.”

“And magic, right?” Dawn asked.

Tara laughed. 

“Don’t worry,” she told Dawn. “You’ll get to help with your spell.”

Dawn smiled. 

“I’ve been doing a lot of reading lately,” she said. “Whenever we run out of weird First-y stuff to look at. Don’t tell Buffy, though. I’m not doing anything. I just like knowing.”

“If you’re going to try anything, come to me first?” Tara asked. “Some stuff is pretty dangerous. Having somebody else to work with is-- it’s really helpful.” She didn’t mention Willow, but Dawn looked at her like she understood. 

An hour later, they had enough protection spells for all of the Potentials. They went downstairs to hand them out, or at least give them to Buffy, but no one was around.

“Too late,” Dawn said. “They must have gone for their patrol.” 

“We’ll wait until they get back,” Tara said. She cast about for something else helpful to do. “I’ll make food.”

“Can I help?” Dawn asked.

“Of course.”

“I’ll sit this one out,” Fred said. “Me and cooking don’t really get along.”

“You can be the taster,” Tara said, smiling.

Fred grabbed a crossbow that was sitting by the door. “Hey,” she said, “I bet I could make some major improvements to this.”

“Like what?” Dawn asked.

“I don’t know,” Fred said. “Something cool, though. Like, what if it could spray holy water  _ and _ shoot stakes? I bet that would get twice the vampires.”

“Or it would be spraying holy water on dust,” Dawn said, practically. “You could try something with fire, though. That way, even if you miss the heart, the vamp still gets dead.”

“Ooh, I like that,” Fred agreed, sitting at the kitchen counter with the bow.

“Don’t set anything in here on fire, though,” Dawn said. “Buffy would get really mad.”

“I’ll do my best,” Fred promised.

Dawn turned to Tara, who was grabbing things from cupboards.

“What are you making?” she asked.

“I really only ever learned pancakes,” Tara confessed. 

“That’s okay,” Dawn said. “Everyone likes pancakes. I tried to make them for the Potentials last week, but it did not turn out well at  _ all _ . Did you ever wonder what a burning griddle smells like?”

Tara laughed.

“I know what a burning griddle smells like,” she assured Dawn.

This house still felt like a ghost of itself, a little bit. The cookbooks were still on the same wall, and the knobs on the stove still got stuck in the same way, and Dawn was still sitting at the counter, watching her cook, but Fred was also at the counter, and there were more eggs in the fridge than any reasonable family would need, and when the front door burst open a little later, there was the commotion of about ten girls, instead of just one.

“I’ll get the spells,” Fred said, hopping off her stool. “Don’t let the girls touch the crossbow.”

Tara smiled to herself as she poured her first pancake onto the griddle. “Hey, Dawn,” she said. “Funny shapes or rounds?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dawn said. 

“Probably for the better,” Tara said, as she watched the batter start to spread.

The Potentials started to troop into the kitchen one by one. Glancing back, Tara saw Dawn leaping up to stand in front of the crossbow.

“Tara’s making pancakes,”Dawn said, her arm creeping behind her back to take the crossbow.

There were various appreciative murmurs all around as Tara started to flip.

“They’ll be ready soon,” she said. “Sorry it’s not more dinner-y. I’m better at breakfast.”

Fred’s voice came from the door behind Tara. “Oh, my, there are a lot of you.” 

Tara looked over her shoulder in time to see Fred coming closer.

“I brought the spells,” Fred said quietly, but not quietly enough.

The Potentials all looked at each other.

“Spells?” one of them asked.

“We made protection spells,” Tara explained. “For you guys. If you wear them around your neck, it should help.”

“Willow did one of those for me once,” Buffy said from the back. “Worked great, until I dropped it in a graveyard. Some dead guy out there is having the world’s safest eternal sleep.”

“There’s one for you, too,” Tara said. “I don’t know if it’s the same thing Willow did.” 

Fred moved among the Potentials, handing out the pouches.

“They’re not on string,” she said. “We should have put them on string, like necklaces.”

“We’ll just put them in our pockets,” Buffy said. “It’s no big.”

“We can find some string,” Tara told Fred. “But the charm will still work. Dawnie, you want to bring me some plates?”

“Sure,” Dawn said. “Fred, you might want to take care of this crossbow, though.”

“Oh, yeah,” Fred said, taking the weapon from Buffy. “It can set arrows on fire now. Be careful with it, everybody.”

The Potentials looked at each other, whispering. Tara caught phrases like, “She can do that?” and, “That’s cool,” among the noise.

Dawn brought plates to Tara, and Tara started flipping pancakes onto the top one. She stacked them up, and Dawn started distributing across plates.

“I should have made bacon,” Tara said. “I didn’t think of it.”

“That’s okay,” Dawn said. “Pancakes are good.”

“You need protein,” Tara replied. “We could put peanut butter on them.”

“I’m allergic,” one of the Potentials said. 

“We’ll survive one night without protein,” Dawn said.

“I survived five years on tree bark and berries,” Fred added. “I don’t recommend it.”

Dawn started to set out plates of pancakes, and finally, the crowd of Potentials dispersed, some of them coming into the kitchen to sit down, some of them taking their pancakes to the living-turned-sleeping room, and some of them settling at the dining room table. Tara stayed where she was, saving a plate on the counter as she cleaned up her mess.

Fred came up behind her. “Aren’t you going to eat?” she asked.

“In a moment,” Tara said, sponge in hand. 

“I’ll help,” Fred said, putting down her own plate and picking up a sponge.

“Thanks.”

That night, Tara laid next to Fred on the floor of Dawn’s room, feeling almost at home, and almost useful. As she struggled to fall asleep, she heard Dawn’s snores and Fred’s incoherent mumbling, and she realized how much she had missed being a part of a family.

The next day, Tara woke up to Fred’s arm flung across her back, a pain in her hip from sleeping on the floor, and shouting coming from downstairs. She sat up, carefully moving Fred’s arm, and realized that Dawn had probably already gone to school. Tara sat for a moment, enjoying the relative peace of the room. 

A moment later, Fred shifted a little and murmured, “Good morning. Who’s yelling?”

“The girls downstairs,” Tara said. “Did I wake you up?”

“No,” Fred answered, sitting up. “The shouting did.” Her hair was a mess, all tangled around her face. “Do you think Dawn would let me borrow a hairbrush?”

“I have one,” Tara said, reaching for her bag. “It’s in here.” She pulled out her brush and handed it to Fred, who started working away at her hair. 

“Do we dare go down there?” Fred asked. 

“I’m not good with the yelling,” Tara said as she took clothes out of her bag. 

“Me either,” Fred admitted. 

Together, they got dressed and ready for the day, and then they stood at the threshold of Dawn’s room, bracing themselves.

“Are you ready?” Tara asked.

“Once more unto the breach, good friends,” Fred joked, holding up one hand as if she were holding a sword.

Tara laughed and took Fred’s sword hand in her own.

“Once more,” she agreed, and they went down the stairs.

The Potentials had stopped yelling; now they were sitting in various corners of the house, carrying out individual conversations or just trying to be alone. When Tara and Fred entered the kitchen, Willow and Kennedy were already there; Willow was telling a younger Potential about the musical demon that had come to Sunnydale, and Kennedy was egging her on, saying things like, “Tell her about the bunnies song,” while the Potential looked between them, caught between lost and laughing.

When Willow noticed Tara, she fell into an awkward stammer. Kennedy noticed and glanced towards the door, and, seeing Tara, glanced back at Willow. Tara and Fred looked at each other, then back at Willow, Kennedy, and the confused Potential.

“Sorry,” Tara said. “We can just-- come back later.” 

She was already backing out when Willow said, “No, it’s okay. It’s not like we own the kitchen.”

Tara shrugged, looking at the ground. “I guess,” she said.

“Where’s the cereal?” Fred asked.

Kennedy slid over. “Still on the counter,” she said. “Continental breakfast kind of lasts forever around here.”

“Thanks,” Fred replied, walking over to the boxes. “Tara, what do you want?”

The Potential who had been listening to Kennedy and Willow had fled, and now it was just Tara, Fred, Willow, and Kennedy in the kitchen, awkwardly standing over cereal and milk. Tara followed Fred to the counter and poured a bowl for herself, and Fred did the same, and somehow Willow and Kennedy were still there. 

And then Kennedy said something to Willow about training, and suddenly she kissed Willow and left, and it was just Willow, standing with Fred and Tara. She looked around, and then she said, “I actually think I prefer the awkward ex talk to being pretty much anywhere else in this house right now.”

“What do I say?” Tara asked. “I haven’t really done this before.”

“Me, either,” Willow said. “Not really. But I think you start with, ‘You look good.’ And then I say, ‘You, too,’ and then we do all the life updates.”

“I thought we did the life updates back in LA,” Tara said. “I don’t know what happens now.”

“You could just try talking to each other,” Fred offered. “Like regular people who are friends and not necessarily exes with a long and complicated history.”

Tara blushed, dipping her head.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Willow said. “So, Tara, who is my friend, your girlfriend’s pretty neat.”

“I think so too,” Tara said. “Yours isn’t half bad either. But I don’t think she likes me very much.”

Willow shrugged. “She’s just jealous.”

“She doesn’t have to be,” Tara said. “I’m happy, and you’re happy, right?”

“Yeah,” Willow said. “Totally. With the happy, all the way.”

“Then that’s good,” Tara said. “And Kennedy has nothing to worry about from me.”

“I know,” Willow said. “She just-- she doesn’t know you.”

Tara opened her mouth to say something about it not being a big deal, but just then, Dawn came in.

“Hey, guys?” She looked between Tara, Willow, and Fred. “Sorry to interrupt, but we kind of need some extra researchy hands on deck.”

“We can do that,” Fred said. 

“I had better go back to the hospital,” Willow said. “I don’t want that Potential to wake up alone.”

“Cool,” Dawn said. “Tara, Fred? Up for some research?”

And so Tara and Fred spent the day around the Summers’ dining room table with Dawn and Giles, first looking into manifestations of evil and Bringers and vampires with even more superstrength than necessary, and then, when Willow called and said the girl had woken up and started talking about a preacher, looking into episodes of violence in California churches and what on Earth he might have of Buffy’s. 

“I didn’t realize this would be so similar to working with Angel,” Fred said.

“Don’t let Buffy hear you say that,” Dawn told her.

“Angel’s more with the helping others thing, anyway,” Tara said. “On a case-by-case basis. Not as much with the big-picture apocalypses.”

“Although I think he might be leading up to one,” Fred said. “With Cordelia and everything.”

“God,” Dawn said. “There’s someone I don’t miss.”

“She’s not bad,” Tara said. “Nicer than Buffy made her sound.”

“She wasn’t always that way,” Dawn said, her tone dark.

“She wasn’t very nice to me at first,” Fred said. “But I think we’re friends now.”

And then Buffy and Faith were back, and the Potentials were piling into the living room, and it was time for a meeting: Fred’s and Tara’s first since coming back. Mostly, it was Buffy and Faith saying things that Tara had already heard from Dawn, but the Potentials all looked plenty scared by it. 

A plan was made, one that involved the Potentials staying at the house and gathering weapons while Buffy and Faith did more recon. Since there weren’t actually that many ungathered weapons in the house, this translated to the Potentials (and a weird wannabe supervillain called Andrew, who for some reason was always around) all sitting in the living room and gossipping. Tara and Fred sat with them, hoping to get to know everybody, but then it turned out that what the Potentials really wanted was to get to know Tara and Fred.

“Why did you come here?” one of the girls asked. She was about fifteen or sixteen-- as old as Buffy had been when she had died the first time, Tara realized.

“Sometimes big things like this happen,” she said, “and everyone gets all focused on the fighting, and no one keeps track of the little things. We’re not Slayers, or even Potentials, but we want to help. We want to keep track of the little things.”

“Like the pancakes?” another girl asked. 

“And the spells,” added another.

Tara nodded.

“Sometimes you forget that your life is still going on,” Fred added.

“Aren’t you afraid?” yet another girl asked. This one was the youngest yet-- Tara thought she was twelve, or eleven, even.

“Yes,” Tara said. “But-- if we don’t help, who will?”

“You’re not back for Willow?” one of the older ones asked. 

Tara shook her head. “Just to help.”

“Really?” the girl asked. “Because Kennedy said--”

“Shut up about what Kennedy said,” another girl interrupted. This one was the one who had mentioned the spells-- she, too, was older. “Kennedy doesn’t know anything.”

“I’m with Fred now,” Tara said.

“Doesn’t mean you don’t like Willow,” the original asker said.

“It means I respect Willow’s choices,” Tara said, “and it means that I don’t need her.”

“But you want her,” Andrew sang under his breath. Everyone glared at him.

“Leave her alone,” yet another girl said. “It’s none of your business.”

“Good point,” Fred said under her breath. Louder, she said, “Why the inquisition?”

“She’s right,” one of the girls said. “This isn’t fair.”

Tara was losing track of who had spoken already and who hadn’t. She promised herself that she would learn all of their names eventually, but for now, she was lost.

“I don’t really care,” she said. “I’m not here to get Willow back. I’m happy with my life. I just want to help.”

“Whatever,” said the girl who had asked her about Willow first.

“I’m glad you’re helping,” the youngest one said. “We need all the help we can get, right?”

There was a general murmur of agreement.

“So,” Fred said. “What are your names?”

By the time Buffy and Faith came back, Tara could identify almost all of the Potentials by name, and she thought maybe they had started thinking of her as somebody other than “Willow’s ex.” As the Potentials trooped off with Buffy and Faith, part of Tara wondered how long she would need all of those names.

But if there was one thing she had learned, hanging out with the Scoobies, it was that you couldn’t dwell on the maybes and the tragedies. Still, she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep until the Potentials (and Xander, and Anya, and Willow) got back from their mission, and she, Fred, and Dawn played Monopoly well into the night until the door open and girls came in-- fewer than Tara knew the names for, cut and bruised and hopefully not broken, without Buffy, or Xander, or Willow. Dawn jumped up to get a first aid kit as Faith, Anya, and Spike brought up the rear.

“Where’s Buffy?” Tara asked. “And… everybody.”

“At the hospital,” Anya said. “Xander lost an eye. Many of the girls are injured. Two of them are dead.”

Dawn returned with the first aid kit, and Tara and Fred immediately started to bandage wounds.

“What happened?” Fred asked Faith.

“It was a trap,” Faith said. “Preacher guy’s got power. Punched out Buffy, punched out a bunch of the girls, stuck his thumb in Xander’s eye, we ran away, now we’re here.”

“Who’s dead?” Dawn asked, quietly.

“I don’t know their names,” Faith said. “Does that make me a bad person?”

“Dianne and Molly,” said the Potential who Tara was bandaging. “They-- they didn’t even get a chance to fight.”

A deep pang of sadness hit Tara at the thought of those girls, who had sat in that whispering, giggling circle earlier, dying with so little fanfare. 

“It’s not fair,” Fred said later, once they were safely upstairs and away from the ears of the Potentials. Dawn was still downstairs, talking to the girls; Tara got the sense that Dawn took comfort in being part of the crowd sometimes.

“It’s not,” she said to Fred. “These girls don’t deserve to die.” They were both in pajamas, and now Tara was brushing her hair while Fred sat on the floor, back against Dawn’s bed, staring out into space. 

“I was thinking about Buffy and Faith,” Fred said. “Buffy was as little as some  of these Potentials when she was Called, right?”

“She was fourteen,” Tara said. “Faith was older, though. Seventeen, I think.”

“Still too young.”

“Yeah.”

Tara finished brushing her hair and stretched to be able to see the clock on Dawn’s nightstand. It was one in the morning.

“It’s late,” she said. “We should sleep.”

“Yeah,” Fred agreed. “Is Dawn coming up?”

“I think she might stay with the Potentials,” Tara said. “She likes them.”

“Poor Dawn,” Fred said. “Everybody keeps leaving her.”

“Yeah.” Tara dragged aside the blankets on the floor and scooted to pull them over her. A moment later, Fred turned off the light and joined her, and Tara held her close, hoping that at least Fred would survive all this.

She slept restlessly, still worried, and woke up too early the next morning to a dawn-lit room, a snoring Fred facing away from her, and a still-empty bed next to them. She closed her eyes again for a moment, letting the smell of Fred’s hair fill her mind, and then she rolled over and opened them again. If she was going to be up this early, she might as well be productive.

What was productive, right now?

It was too early for breakfast, especially since everyone had had a late night. There wasn’t much research to be done that could be done without a computer, and Tara didn’t like computers. Fred was decent with them, and Willow was brilliant, but Tara had never been able to reconcile the cold plastic of the keyboard with the warm energies of her magic. So that was out. 

What else could Tara do?

She could place a spell on the house, maybe. Another protection spell. She closed her eyes again and felt for the energies around the house, looking for what was already there. There were already spells woven into the grain of the wood and the fabric of the furniture and the solid earth below; their power signature was distinctly Willow’s. The familiarity was still comforting, somehow.

Still, more wouldn’t hurt. Tara pushed herself into a sitting position, and then she moved so that she was leaning against the wall, eyes shut. She was just going to use her own energies to amplify the spell-- nothing fancy, and nothing that would require taking more of Willow’s ingredients. Just amplifying what was there. She reached out with her mind again, ignoring the auras of the Potentials downstairs, and Buffy and Willow and Kennedy and Fred upstairs, and letting herself feel the spells around the house once more. She drew energy from the earth into the walls, slowly and carefully pulling it up and over until it was in the roof, too, surrounding her and everyone else. 

Just as she was finishing, she felt others waking up, and so she returned completely to herself, breaking her hold on the magic around the home. She opened her eyes to see Fred, sitting up, looking at her quizzically.

“Good morning,” Tara said, crawling back over to their makeshift bed.

“Good morning,” Fred answered. “Is that meditation?”

“Kind of,” Tara said. “I was strengthening the protection spells around the house. Willow did a lot, of course, but--”

“There’s never too much protection,” Fred finished.

“Exactly,” Tara agreed. “I’m just trying to be helpful.”

“You don’t have to be helpful every minute,” Fred said. “It’s too much to always be doing something.”

Tara sighed. “I know. But I feel bad if I don’t.”

“Me, too,” Fred confessed. “But you need time for yourself, or else you get really tired and then you get angry at everyone, and if you’re going to be helpful when it matters you can’t be tired and angry.”

“I know,” Tara said. “I’m just worried. I’m so worried about everyone, Fred. I thought I had a lot of worry when it was just the Scoobies, but-- how am I supposed to hold all this?”

“I don’t know,” Fred said. “I’m holding it, too. I just don’t want all of those girls to die, but I know some of them will, and I’m so worried.”

“Are you worried about yourself?” Tara asked.

Fred shrugged. 

“I lived five years in Hell,” she said. “I’m not afraid to die. Anyway, you’re not worried about yourself.”

“I am,” Tara said. “I just-- I don’t like other people worrying about me.”

“Well, it’s too late for that,” Fred said.

Tara shrugged, dipping her head so that her hair hid her face. She hadn’t done that so much lately, but-- sometimes she still needed to hide. She wasn’t at Fred levels of bravery yet.

Fred leaned in and pushed Tara’s chin up, brushing Tara’s hair out of her face with her other hand. She kissed Tara once, slowly, and when she pulled back, Tara kept her head up.

“I worry about you, too,” Tara said. “Even if you’re not afraid to die. I don’t want you to.”

Fred took Tara’s hand and squeezed it, hard. 

“I don’t want to, either,” she said. 

Tara smiled and squeezed Fred’s hand back. 

“Good,” she said. “Because you’re… you’re really good, and I don’t want to lose you.”

“Me, either,” Fred said. “I mean, I don’t want to lose you either. Or me. Or anyone. Or whatever.”

“Can we-- can we talk about something else now?” Tara asked. “You’re right-- we can’t spend all our time worrying. And we probably don’t have very long until everyone starts waking up--”

“They won’t need us for a while,” Fred said. “It’s okay if they have to make their own pancakes.”

Tara smiled. “What can we do with the time?” she asked, playfully.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” Fred asked, grinning back.

“Just a little,” Tara said. And then she got serious. “But, just to be clear, I’m not having sex with you on the floor of Dawn’s bedroom.”

Fred laughed. 

“Me, either,” she said. “Don’t worry. Just kiss me?”

“Yes,” Tara said, and she obliged. 

About an hour later, the two of them went downstairs together to find about half the Potentials up and in the kitchen and dining room, cereal bowls sitting underneath bleary eyes and clouds of hair. There was only one bowl left in the cupboard, which Tara passed to Fred as she grabbed a plate. Fred tried to protest, but Tara told her she didn’t mind-- “I’ll just make a sandwich,” she said. Fred shrugged and took the bowl, filling it with cereal as Tara found half a loaf of bread in the cupboard. As she got out the peanut butter, she realized that everyone in the room-- which only included a few Potentials, really-- was silent, and was looking at her. 

She found a butterknife, and she started to assemble her sandwich, ignoring the eyes on her. She put away the peanut butter and got out the jelly, and now Fred was standing next to her with a bowl of cereal, asking why didn’t Tara use a spoon to spread her jelly, it was so much easier, and everyone was still staring at her.

“I never thought of using a spoon,” she said, turning around. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t you know?” one of the girls-- Vi-- asked. 

Tara shook her head. “Did-- did someone die?”

“No,” another girl said. Amanda. “Nothing like that. Don’t worry.”

“Kennedy and Willow broke up,” Vi explained.

“Oh,” Tara said. She looked at Fred. Fred looked right back, looking just as confused as Tara. “It’s not-- it’s not really my business what their relationship is like,” Tara said, looking between the girls. 

“You should know, though,” Vi said. “Right? I’d want to know.”

“Before Kennedy tries to fight you in the driveway,” Amanda said.

“And that’s a fight you wouldn’t win,” the third Potential-- Rona-- said.

“I don’t want to fight her,” Tara said. She looked at Fred. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come back here.”

“No,” Vi said. “We like you, really. And you’re helping. You’re right. It’s not our business.” She looked down at her cereal.

“It’s okay,” Tara said. “Just-- I don’t want to be involved in all this drama right now. We don’t have time for it.”

“There’s kind of an apocalypse going on,” Fred agreed. “In case you hadn’t noticed.”

“I kind of like the drama,” Amanda said. “It’s like this big distraction from the fact that we’re all going to die.”

“Hold on,” Tara said, walking right up to the counter, across from Amanda. “It’s not a fact, okay? This is dangerous, but Buffy’s lived through eight or nine apocalypses, and she’s still alive, okay? I’ve gone through three or four, and I’m here. Fred’s done-- how many?”

“I don’t know,” Fred said, “but I lived for five years in a hell dimension, and if that didn’t kill me, I don’t think anything will.”

“Exactly. We can get through really hard things,” Tara said. “And it’s dangerous, and some of you might die, but not all of you, okay? You just have to fight.”

Amanda seemed a little cheered, and Tara moved back to stand with Fred. The Potentials were looking at her with a new admiration. 

“No chairs in here,” Tara said to Fred. “Let’s go to the dining room?”

“Okay,” Fred said.

Tara addressed the Potentials. 

“If you ever need to talk,” she told them, “we’re here. Both of us.”

“Yeah,” Fred agreed. “We kind of know what it’s like to go through Hell.”

They moved into the dining room, where Willow was sitting at one end of the table, already buried in research, and a knot of Potentials was at the other end, talking quietly to one another. Fred and Tara sat almost exactly halfway between, and they ate their breakfast in near silence. When they were finished, Tara took their dishes to the kitchen, and when she got back to the dining room, Fred was asking Willow if she needed help with her research. 

Willow immediately set Fred up with a book to read, and so Tara asked, “Do you want me to help, too, or--”

Willow looked up at Tara. “So they’ve told you.”

“It seems hard to keep secrets around here these days,” Tara said.

“You have no idea,” Willow agreed. She looked down at her books. “But you can get on the research train. Dawn isn’t up yet, and Giles is off trying to hunt down some giant old something. You know the way he is.”

“It won’t make things with Kennedy weird?” Tara asked. 

“They’re weird anyway. And she doesn’t hate me. Or you. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay,” Tara said, and she sat down next to Fred and pulled a book over to her. Fred’s hand found hers under the table, and she fought the urge to smile. “What are we looking for?”

“Anything that might make someone super strong and maybe kind of immortal,” Willow said. “We’ve ruled out giant snake, but anything else is fair game.”

“Got it.” Tara flipped open the book. “The guy’s a preacher, right?”

“Yeah,” Willow said. “And he’s working with the First.”

Tara shuddered. 

“The First creeps me out,” she said.

“Majorly,” Willow agreed. “And yet, we research.” 

She leaned into her computer screen, typing faster. Tara started on the book she had taken-- it turned out to be a compendium of strength spells. She started taking notes. 

About fifteen minutes later, Dawn ambled through the dining room, still in her clothes from the day before. She went into the kitchen and came back a few minutes later carrying a plate piled with dry cereal, a hole in the middle for milk. Tara took one look at it and wrinkled her nose. 

“There’s no way that’s going to work,” she said.

“Well, no bowls,” Dawn replied, shrugging. “I take what I can get around here. Hit me with a book?”

Willow passed a book over, and Dawn took it and opened it with barely a look at the title. Tara watched as Dawn carefully maneuvered a spoonful of cereal so that the milk didn’t drip on the book and almost laughed at the juxtaposition between the research they were doing-- which involved dense text and descriptions of dismemberment-- and the fact that Dawn was still clearly a sixteen-year-old girl.

Maybe that wasn’t funny.

Tara turned her attention back to her own book. A few minutes later, Willow closed her computer and stood up, saying that she was going to go visit Xander in the hospital.

“Oh, can I come?” Dawn asked, already putting away her book.

“I don’t know if he’s ready for more than me and Buffy yet,” Willow said, glancing awkwardly around.

“I’m basically family!” Dawn argued.

“He’ll be back here soon,” Willow promised. 

“Hey, Dawn, we didn’t finish that game of Monopoly last night,” Tara said, looking up. “We can take a break from this, right?”

“It’s not like we’re finding anything,” Fred agreed, pushing her book away.

Willow gave Tara a grateful look as she slipped out.

“You’re just trying to distract me,” Dawn said. “It’s not going to work.” She paused for a moment. “But this is super boring, honestly. What are we even researching?” Without waiting for an answer, she darted out of the room and returned a moment later carefully balancing the Monopoly board, complete with pieces, Chance and Community Chest cards, houses and hotels, and even stacks of money and property deeds. “I’m going to kick both of your asses,” she declared as she set everything down.

Tara took her money. “ _ Can _ you kick ass at Monopoly?” she asked.

“It’s not really violent,” Fred said. “Not much room for kicking in Park Place.”

“It’s a metaphorical ass-kicking,” Dawn said, rolling the dice. 

Unfortunately for Tara, Dawn really  _ had  _ been winning the night before, which meant that her chances of metaphorically kicking Tara’s ass were fairly high. Fortunately, Tara wasn’t playing to win-- if she had been playing to win, she would have insisted on a more interesting game. She just wanted to get to know Dawn again.

As Fred rolled to take her turn, Andrew came through the room, rounding up Potentials for the workshop that Anya was apparently leading downstairs. Privately, Tara didn’t think an Anya-led workshop would do much good, but she didn’t say that out loud. Fred passed Go and collected $200, and then immediately surrendered a large portion of that to Dawn, who had hotels on all of the purple properties. As Tara rolled, Faith came in, carrying a glass of orange juice in one hand and two slices of plain bread in the other.

“Monopoly, huh?” she asked, sitting down and taking a huge bite of one slice of bread. “Wow. You guys must really be bored. I guess there’s really not much to do during the day around here.”

“This is carried over from last night, actually,” Tara said, moving her piece. She landed on a Community Chest space. “When we were waiting for you and the Potentials to come back.”

“Or during the night, I guess,” Faith said. 

“We were doing research,” Fred explained. “But there’s not that much to do right now.”

“The Potentials get dumb presentations from Anya,” Dawn said. “We have Monopoly. Tell me which one you’d rather have.”

“Hey, I’m still up here, aren’t I?” Faith shrugged. “I’ve never played, actually. Just seen it on TV.”

“It’s pretty boring,” Fred said. “Definitely not an essential life experience, if you ask me.”

“Dawn, take your turn,” Tara said.

Dawn rolled the dice.

“Seems unfair,” Faith said. “Everything decided by a roll of dice. Wonder if that’s how life works.”

“If it is, I think mine are loaded,” Dawn said.

“You and me both, sister,” Faith said.

“Sorry,” Dawn said. “Not that I think my life is harder than no parents and years in prison.”

“The prison was the easy part,” Faith replied. “It was before that that was hard. And after is shaping up to be pretty tough, too. This whole Slayer thing is a lot less cool than it sounds.”

“I think a year ago I would have hated my dice,” Fred said. “Y’know. For letting me go to Pylea for so long. And I still haven’t forgiven the universe for that. But it helped me find what I like to do, at least. I’m happy now.”

“Even here?” Dawn asked.

“Especially here,” Fred said. “You guys need me, and it’s a change of scenery. And the city was really overwhelming. I kind of missed being someplace small.”

“I missed Sunnydale,” Tara said. “But I think I just missed the people.”

“Yeah, we all know you’re still into Red,” Faith said.

“N- no,” Tara said. “I don’t-- I don’t  _ just _ mean Willow. I mean everybody. Dawn, and Buffy, and Giles, and Xander, and all the Scoobies. And I love Angel and his friends, but the people in Sunnydale were kind of my first good family.”

There was silence for a moment as Dawn took her turn. She landed on one of Fred’s properties and started counting out money. When she was done, she handed it to Fred, and, still looking down, said, “I missed you, too.”

Faith snorted.

“I’m starting to think you’re cursed, Tara,” she said. “Cursed to make people sappy wherever you go.”

“Just these people,” Tara said, smiling. “Fred, it’s your turn.”

Fred rolled the dice.

“Faith, you can play with us if you want,” Tara said. “We could add you in. You’d be at a disadvantage, though.”

“Yeah, well, that’s nothing new,” Faith said. “Hand me some cash, would you?”

Fred, who was banker, moved her piece. She landed on an unowned railroad, but before doing anything with the deed, she counted out Faith’s money.

“I’m giving you a little extra,” she said. “Because the rest of us already have properties and stuff.”

“Sounds good to me,” Faith said, grabbing the money from Fred. “When’s it my turn?”

“After Dawn,” Tara said. “We’re going clockwise.”

“Cool. How do you do this?”

Fred started explaining the rules, and Tara rolled the dice. Before her turn had ended, Faith was leaning forward in her seat, ready to play.

They played for about half an hour more until Dawn won, waving fistfuls of money in the air. 

“Damn,” Faith said. “If this is what having a little sister is like, I’m glad I don’t have one.”

“You’re just bitter because you’re not the big winner,” Dawn said. 

“I’m going to make lunch,” Tara said. “What do the Potentials like?”

“Anything you can make a lot of,” Dawn said. “I think their stomachs are bottomless.”

“I always said Slaying makes you hungry,” Faith muttered. 

“Sandwiches?” Tara asked.

“Out of bread,” Faith said. 

“There’s more in the pantry,” Dawn corrected.

“Cool,” Tara said. “Sandwiches it is. You guys want to help?”

“I’ll help,” Fred said. “It’s hard to mess up a sandwich.”

“Dawn, if you can get the bread, that’d be good.”

“I’m just going to stay in here,” Faith said. “I’m not good with groups of people in small spaces. Makes me jumpy.”

“And we wouldn’t want that, would we,” Dawn muttered.

And so Tara, Dawn, and Fred made enough sandwiches for a small army, which indeed was what they were feeding, and Faith was only in the kitchen long enough to grab a bag of chips. Soon enough, a few Potentials trickled up the stairs and started talking to Faith-- Tara, seeing Kennedy in the mix, figured she had better get out. She took a sandwich and tapped Fred on the shoulder, gesturing with her head to say that she was leaving. Fred followed, and they went back up the stairs to Dawn’s room.

“There’s really not a lot to do around here,” Fred remarked, sitting on the end of Dawn’s bed.

“There used to be more,” Tara said, sitting down next to Fred. “Before everyone started evacuating and worrying about this big apocalypse. Especially up at the university.”

“Did you go to big parties?” Fred asked.

“One,” Tara admitted. “With Willow. It-- it wasn’t very much fun. Especially with the whole supernatural Hellmouth thing.”

“What happened?”

“The house was a Christian orphanage before it was a frat house,” Tara explained. “It had all these spirits of the kids who lived there, and they got into a bunch of us at the party. I wound up pushing Will away and hiding in the bathroom, crying.”

“That’s awful,” Fred said.

“Yeah,” Tara said. “I had just gotten out of that whole-- that whole mindset, too, from my own family. I felt bad about touching Willow for a week after. She was nice about it, though.”

There was a knock at the door, and Dawn came in.

“Hey, guys,” she said.

“You don’t have to knock on your own door,” Tara said.

“Just wanted to make sure you weren’t doing anything I was going to regret seeing,” Dawn said breezily.

“We wouldn’t,” Tara said, glancing at an intensely blushing Fred.

“I know. But I have to be sure.” Dawn grinned. “And I like making you uncomfortable.”

“Hey, I’m perfectly comfortable,” Tara said. 

“I’m not,” Fred protested.

“You’re ten years older than me,” Dawn said. “Surely you’re above blushing because I mentioned a  _ completely reasonable  _ concern.”

“If you’re up here,” Tara said, “should I assume the Potentials are down there?”

“Some of them.” Dawn shrugged. “Mostly Buffy came home. I still feel jumpy when she and Faith are together.”

“Because of the thing where they fought?” Fred asked.

“Yeah,” Dawn said. “And they have a weird-- something. There’s something weird about the way they talk to each other. Like everything has all this meaning that only they understand. Gives me the creeps. Even you and Willow weren’t that bad.”

“Faith and Buffy aren’t dating,” Tara said. “Unless I missed something  _ really  _ big.”

“Only ‘cause Buffy thinks she’s straight,” Dawn answered. “And has a  _ massive _ stick up her butt.”

“She’s under a lot of pressure,” Tara said. “All the time.”

“Yeah,” Dawn sighed. “I know. But she’s still annoying.”

“I don’t think Faith wants to date, either,” Fred said. “She’s kind of getting used to the whole thing about being out of prison, right? And she wasn’t exactly Little Miss Socially Adjusted before, right?”

“You’re telling me,” Dawn groused. “I had to deal with her and Buffy when they were both seventeen and even  _ bigger _ messes.”

“So what do we do now?” Fred asked.

“Wait for the world to end, I guess,” Dawn said. “Ugh. I hate not being anything.”

“You’re something,” Tara said.

“You’re good with the research,” Fred added.

“Yeah, but only because I’m Buffy’s sister,” Dawn said. “I’m nothing on my own. I was an artist, and I was pretty good at school, too, and now the school’s closed and all I can do is doodle in the margins of my Hellmouth notes. I had friends and everything, and now they’ve evacuated and I’m stuck here. And I want to help, but I don’t know if I can.”

“You can,” Tara said. “It helps just to have people like us around, who are thinking about something other than Slaying.”

“It’s true,” Fred agreed. “Angel’s much better off with Cordelia around, even though she doesn’t really fight. And not just because of her visions.”

“I guess,” Dawn said, shrugging.

“If we didn’t think that, we wouldn’t have come,” Tara added. “I’m here because I’m a witch, but I’m also here because someone has to do things like make sure everyone gets fed.”

“If you’re looking for something to do,” Fred said, “we could make a banner for when Xander comes home from the hospital.”

Dawn visibly perked up. “I have paint,” she said. “And some really big paper, but we have to use the back of it.”

“That’s okay,” Fred said. 

“I can draw him,” Tara said. “I have a degree in art, you know. Or, half a degree. Whatever it is when you double major.”

“You graduated college and you didn’t invite me?” Dawn shrieked. “Okay, whatever. But we are doing this.”

And so Dawn brought out her giant paper, which, it turned out, had formerly been a banner for the Sunnydale High Gay Straight Alliance. Tara didn’t comment on that, instead turning to picking out paint colors. Fred did the lettering, moving her brush in painstakingly straight lines, and Tara did indeed paint a cartoon of a pirate Xander. Dawn did the parrot on his shoulder, and then she did waves and a ship in the background. When she was done and they were waiting for the paint to dry, Tara asked, “Should we paint over the other side?”

Dawn shrugged. “Doesn’t matter,” she said. “It’s not a big deal. It says straight right there in the name.”

“Okay,” Tara said. “But if you ever want to talk, we’re here, okay?”

“I know,” Dawn said. “I’m not ready yet.”

Tara went downstairs and found out from Anya that Xander wasn’t getting home that night, so she went back up and helped Tara and Fred roll the banner up and store it in Dawn’s closet. They all went back down together, just in time to hear Faith suggest a trip to the Bronze.

“They’re open?” Tara asked, under her breath.

“Guess so,” Dawn answered. 

“What’s the Bronze?” Fred asked.

Ten minutes later, she had her answer. She and Tara hung out on the couches in the corner, each holding a drink, while Dawn, Faith, and the Potentials danced their heart out to the D-list band onstage. 

“Sunnydale never stops, really,” Fred said, leaning into Tara. “This is impressive.”

“You should have seen it last apocalypse,” Tara answered. “The band was better.” 

Fred rested her head on Tara’s shoulder. “I like this just fine. Any more people and I’d be way overwhelmed.”

“Me, too,” Tara admitted. “This isn’t really my scene.”

“Beats being holed up at Buffy’s,” Fred said. 

“Yeah.” Tara was silent a moment, enjoying the feel of Fred’s head on her shoulder. “Do you think we made a mistake?” 

“What do you mean?”

“In coming here,” Tara explained.

Fred sat up and looked at her. “If you had been able to stay away, you’d be a different person, probably, and I wouldn’t like you half as much.”

“You didn’t have to come with me.”

“I’d be a different person, too, if I hadn’t wanted to come help,” Fred said. “They don’t need me in LA. Maybe they don’t need me here, either, but I can do more here. And I want to keep learning magic, and you’re the only witch I know.”

“So you’re just with me for the free magic lessons?” Tara teased.

“No!” Fred exclaimed. “I’m with you because I like you.”

Tara kissed Fred. 

“You’re really cute,” she said as she pulled away. 

Fred’s smile could have lit up a hundred rooms.

The music slowed, and Fred stood up. “This is more my speed,” she said, holding out her hand to Tara. “Dance with me?”

Tara stood and let Fred take her to the dance floor, where they were pretty much the only ones-- once the slow dance came on, everyone had apparently decided that they had to go get a drink.

“I feel like everyone’s looking at me,” Fred said.

“Because you’re beautiful,” Tara answered.

“Because we’re the only ones on the dance floor,” Fred replied. 

Tara just smiled, enjoying being close.

It didn’t last, though. There was a sudden commotion from the direction of the door, and Tara and Fred jumped apart to look towards it. There were a couple of police officers, big burly types, facing off against Faith. 

“Guess breaking out of prison isn’t the best way to go,” Fred murmured.

“She’ll be all right,” Tara said.

“I’m more worried about the cops,” Fred agreed.

“I’m worried about the girls,” Tara said. “Too much energy, no super strength. Run interference with me?”

“Yeah,” Fred said.

Together, they rounded up the girls, telling everyone that they were going to go wait outside. Of course, then the fight moved outside anyway, and no one was about to stop Kennedy from fighting (especially not Tara), but still, the younger girls, the ones who shouldn’t even be allowed to be fighting  _ demons _ , much less Hellmouthy policemen, were out of danger. 

“Let’s go,” Tara said, mostly to Fred, but also to the Potentials in the vicinity. “Faith will be fine. Kennedy and Amanda are helping. We should go home.”

Some of the Potentials came with them-- more stayed behind, but that was fine. Tara had given the more scared ones an excuse to leave, at least, and that was what mattered.

“Are you okay?” Fred asked her quietly.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just… these girls don’t have to deal with everything. And I’m not good with the violence, either.”

“I’m worried about Faith,” Fred said, her voice still quieter than before.

“Me, too,” Tara admitted, glancing back at the Potentials. “She’ll be okay this time, though.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Fred said. “What if she kills one of them?”

“She won’t,” Tara said. “She’s a lot more in control of herself than she was.”

“I know,” Fred said.

“Hey, isn’t Xander getting back later?” Tara asked. “We can get that banner.”

“Did Dawn come with us?” Fred asked, looking around at the Potentials behind them.

“I think she stuck around,” Tara said. “She’s close with Amanda.”

“I hope they get back before Xander,” Fred said. “We should have a proper party.”

“He was only gone for a couple days,” Tara said. “How much party, do you think?”

“We could make a cake or something. It’d have to be really big, though, for everybody.”

“Cookies?” Tara asked.

“Chocolate chip?”

“If Buffy has any,” Tara said.

“Sounds good,” Fred said

In the end, they made sugar cookies, and a few of the Potentials helped. Faith, Dawn, Kennedy, Amanda, and the others who had stayed behind got back shortly after Tara’s group, and they came with Buffy, sustaining their argument even as they walked through the door and into the living room. After a couple of minutes, there was stomping as Faith stormed out, and Amanda came into the kitchen.

“Dawn said to tell you she’s getting the banner,” she said to Tara and Fred. “Are you baking? Can I help?”

“We’re almost done,” Tara said. “But you can help with the most important part.”

“What’s that?” Amanda asked.

“Cutting it into funny shapes,” Tara said. “We don’t have cookie cutters, or frosting, so we have to be creative about it.”

“I bet I could make an awesome vampire,” Amanda said. 

“Be our guest,” Fred said. She, Tara, and the potentials shifted to make room, and Amanda joined them in rolling out dough and cutting shapes.

Xander got back just as the cookies were coming out of the oven. Dawn had come downstairs with the banner, which Amanda had helped her hang, and so when Faith came in with Principal Wood and said Xander and Willow were in the driveway, everyone could race to sit in the living room and wait for him to come in. The “party” was doing double duty as a meeting, of course; Xander hadn’t been in the hospital  _ that _ long. Still, there was a festive atmosphere as the cookies were passed around and everyone hugged Xander.

And then Buffy walked in. She really did seem like a general, Tara thought-- she barely wasted a moment on welcoming Xander before breezing right into business. With every word she said, Tara’s heart sank a little bit-- she could feel, just from the restlessness of the people around her, where this was going, and it wasn’t going well for Buffy.

She was right.

First, the Potentials started arguing, and then Faith, and then Willow was agreeing, anc Xander, and finally, as Tara watched in horror, Dawn stood up to deliver the final blow.

“No,” Tara said, loudly, forcefully, and yet surprised to hear the word come from her mouth. “Stop.”

Dawn looked at her. “What?”

“It’s hard to be Buffy,” Tara said, trying to be quiet. “If you don’t want to follow her orders, don’t. But don’t-- don’t make her leave.”

Dawn looked at her for a long moment, then back at Buffy. Her face was still completely stiff.

“Stay or go. I don’t care. But step back.”

Buffy stared at Dawn for a moment, and then, without another word, left, her head down. But when she got to the foyer, she turned left and walked up the stairs. Everyone watched in silence.

And then, moments after Buffy was gone, they all started talking at once.  Tara felt herself closing in on herself a little bit, her shoulders curling. And then she felt Fred’s hand on her shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Fred asked under her breath.

Tara nodded. “I- I’m fine.” She looked up at Fred, who looked just as tense as Tara felt. “A- are you?”

“Let’s go to the kitchen,” Fred said.

“Okay.” 

Tara and Fred slipped out to the brightly lit kitchen. Immediately, Tara felt herself relaxing.

“Wow,” Fred said, sitting at the counter. “Sometimes I think I’m completely, one hundred percent over the whole Pylea thing, but I’m still  _ way _ easily overwhelmed.”

Tara nodded. “I know I said I like to help, but this is kind of a lot.”

“We can still help,” Fred said. “I don’t think we’d do much in there, anyway.”

Suddenly, the voices in the living room distilled to one voice: Faith’s.

“See? She’s got it,” Fred added.

“Yeah,” Tara said. As she said it, all the lights went out. There were screams from the other room.

“I guess the power company’s left town,” Fred said.

“This is the big one,” Tara agreed.

A moment later, the voices in the living room died down a little, and then Faith appeared in the kitchen.

“Damn,” she said. “This leadership thing’s tough.”

“That was a hard room to be in,” Fred said.

“You handled it well, I think,” Tara added. “From what I could hear.”

“Yeah,” Faith said. “I guess. I just feel bad for B. But she majorly needed to get off her high horse.”

“You should go talk to her,” Tara said. “Apologize, maybe.”

“Tried that once,” Faith said. “Didn’t go well.”

“Still,” Tara said. “She needs someone.”

“Don’t know if you know me,” Faith said. “I’m not great at being the someone. Especially when I just took a girl’s job.”

“Just try,” Tara said.

Faith shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

She left just as Willow and Dawn came in and started making sandwiches. There was an awkward, tense silence for a moment before Fred said, “Nothing like wrangling twenty teenage girls to make you hungry, huh?”

“Who’d’ve thunk it?” Willow asked, sitting across from Fred to assemble her sandwich. “We figured we’d use up the cheese before it spoils.”

“Oh, that’s smart,” Fred said, getting up. “Tara, do you want a sandwich?”

“No,” Tara said. “I’m tired. I think I’m going to go to bed.”

“Okay,” Fred said. “I’ll be up soon.”

Tara nodded and stood, moving past Fred and out of the kitchen.

Dawn wasn’t back in her room yet. It had been a while since Tara had been alone, and the quiet was nice. If Tara sat on the floor and closed her eyes, she could almost pretend she was back in her dorm room at UC Sunnydale, when she was still just a student who helped fight demons in her free time. 

(As a kid, when her dad was being awful, she had closed her eyes and imagined herself away. But she had never had a real memory to use before, in the imagining. She had thought of all sorts of possible futures, but never a real past.)

She heard a voice saying her name… a familiar voice. A  _ too _ -familiar voice. Tara opened her eyes and scrambled to her feet, seeing exactly what she had both hoped and dreaded sitting on Dawn’s bed.

“Mom?” she said,feeling like she was ten years old again.

“Tara,” her mom said. Her hair-- the same brown as Tara’s-- rested softly on her shoulders, and she was wearing her favorite blue shirt, the one with the ruffles that Tara’s dad had never let her wear. 

“It’s not you,” Tara said, backing away against the wall.

“Oh,” the image of her mom said, “I guess the cat’s out of the bag.” She smiled in the way that she always had when she had been caught in a particularly good joke. “But really, Tara, I’m the First, but that doesn’t mean I’m not your mom, too. Her spirit is in here.”

“I’m sorry, then,” Tara said. “My mom wasn’t evil.”

“I just want to help you,” her mom said. “I’m worried about you, Tara. You’re throwing yourself into this whole saving the world thing, but I’m worried that you won’t be able to save yourself.”

“They need me,” Tara said.

“Do they really?” her mom asked. “Wouldn’t the world get saved anyway?”

“You’re not real,” Tara said. “Get out.”

Her mom-- the figure of her mom-- stood up. “Tara, I don’t want you to die because you’re busy helping others. You always were so selfless.”

“You-- you don’t know that.” 

“Remember when you were little, and you ran into me and skinned your knees, and then you were so busy apologizing to me that you didn’t even care that you were bleeding?” Her mom smiled, and Tara’s heart hurt, because it was the exact same smile she had seen in the worst of times, when her mom was sad and hurt and Tara was trying to make her feel better. “Tara, you need to get out of there.”

“No,” Tara said. “ _ No _ . I’m staying here. These Potentials matter, and not just because they’re Slayers. Leave me alone, okay?” In a panic, she swiped at the figure of her mom. Her hand went right through, and her mom sighed, and then she just wasn’t there anymore. Tara stared for a couple of moments at the spot where the figure of her mom had been, and then she collapsed onto Dawn’s bed, trying not to cry.

She had thought she was over her mom’s death, or, at least, over it enough that she could be reminded of it without crying. But seeing her mom again-- and seeing her in such a corrupted form-- reminded Tara of everything that she and her mom had been through. It was important to Tara that her mom  _ wasn’t _ corrupted, wasn’t a demon, and now her image, at least, and maybe her soul, had been completely co-opted for evil.

Tara stood up. Blindly, she stumbled through the door to Dawn’s room and down the stairs. She heard Fred’s laughter from the kitchen still, mixed with Willow’s. 

When she walked in, Fred saw her first and stood up immediately. 

“Tara, what’s wrong?”

Willow, whose back was facing the door, looked around.

“Was it the First?” she asked, sympathy in her voice.

Tara nodded.

“It was m- m- my mom,” she said. “She was-- she wasn’t supposed to be like that. She wasn’t evil.”

“Oh, Tara,” Fred said, at exactly the same time as Willow said, “Oh, no.”

Tara shrugged. “I just-- I wanted to be alone, but then I thought maybe that wasn’t going to be good for me, because I wasn’t-- I wasn’t thinking very good things, so I’m down here now. You guys can keep talking if you want.”

“Are you sure?” Willow asked. “Because I can go.”

“No, it’s okay. I think-- I think I need the crowd right now.”

Willow nodded. “Okay.”

Fred sat back down, and Tara sat next to her. Fred’s hand found hers under the table, and Tara smiled with gratitude. 

“We were talking about our favorite Halloween costumes,” Fred explained. “Willow was telling me about when she went as Joan of Arc and wound up lost in a haunted house.”

“Not to be confused with the time she went as a ghost and wound up as a literal ghost,” Tara said, almost smiling.

Fred’s eyes widened, and she turned to Willow. “What?”

Willow started explaining what had happened, and Fred kept asking questions about the science behind everything, and Tara felt herself calming down a little. 

“But what about your costumes?” Willow asked Fred. “I’m curious what a girl like you comes up with.”

“Well, when I was sixteen I was Bigfoot,” Fred said. “And when I was seventeen I was Mothman. But nothing weird happened to me. I  _ wish _ I had turned into Mothman, though. Wouldn’t that be cool? I would probably still be flying around Texas.”

“Doesn’t Mothman traditionally live in the forest?” Willow asked. “Is there food for you in Texas, if you’re being Mothman?”

“I don’t know,” Fred said. “I don’t know what moths eat. I know what men eat, but I don’t know if Mothman is closer to a moth or to a man.” She paused. “Damn, all the time I spent on conspiracy theories and I never found out if Mothman was closer to a moth or to a man.”

“We could probably find out,” Tara said. “After the apocalypse.”

“What did you dress as for Halloween as a kid, Tara?” Fred asked.

Tara shrugged. “My dad didn’t like Halloween,” she said. “He said it was a pagan abomination.” She smiled. “But my mom told me that if I picked a character who just dressed like a regular person, she’d help me get a costume. So I was one of the kids from  _ E. T. _ once, and I got through a couple of Disney princesses, too, because I wore a bunch of long dresses anyway, and Dad didn’t really watch Disney movies. He caught me when I was twelve and I tried to do Marty McFly, you know, from  _ Back to the Future _ ? Because I put my hair up in a hat. And he-- he asked me if I wanted to be a dyke. I didn’t know what it meant for another six years.”

“That’s awful,” Fred said. 

“The costumes were fun,” Tara said. “I like to remember the costumes. Even Marty McFly. And-- and it turned out I kind of did want to be a dyke.” She smiled. “And the first Halloween after I left, I did the biggest costume I could think of. I made giant fairy wings in the sculpture studio at UC Sunnydale, and I found this dress at a thrift shop. And then on Halloween, I got all dressed up after class, but I was too scared to wear it anywhere, so I just sat in my room.”

“Do you still have the wings?” Fred asked. 

“I gave them to one of my professors for her kid,” Tara said. “I had to adjust them to fit, but that kid was a pretty great fairy.”

“Oh!” Willow said. “Was that Professor Greenberg? She showed us pictures.”

Tara smiled. “Yeah, it was,” she said.

“They were really pretty wings,” Willow said. “I never realized you made them.”

“Maybe I’ll do something next year,” Tara said. “I don’t know what, though. I’m kind of focused on surviving this whole thing first.”

“What did the First say to you?” Fred asked. “As your mom.” She hesitated. “You don’t have to tell us.”

“It’s okay,” Tara said. “She-- she just told me that I should leave Sunnydale. She said I was too selfless.”

“You’re just the right amount of selfless,” Fred said. 

“I’m not leaving,” Tara said. “It wasn’t what she said that hurt me. It’s just-- I know what she went through. She thought she was a demon, and then a demon took her face, and it’s not fair. She wasn’t a demon. It’s just-- it’s not fair.”

“It’s not,” Willow agreed. 

“Your mom sounds really nice,” Fred said. 

“She was,” Tara said. “I wish you guys could have met her. As much as I love your parents, Fred.”

“I get it,” Fred said. “You already had a mom.”

Just then, there were stomping noises from outside, and the door banged open. Tara craned her neck to see the source of the commotion-- it was a group of Potentials, accompanied by Giles, and… was that a Bringer they were dragging behind them?

It was. Tara looked at Fred and Willow quizzically, and Willow said, “That’s what you missed when you went upstairs. They want to interrogate it.”

“Good God,” Tara said. 

“They’re going to tie it up in the basement,” Fred explained.

Sure enough, the group passed the doorway to the dining room, and Tara could hear them trooping down the stairs. She looked at Fred and Willow, and suddenly the whole thing seemed really funny. Tara started laughing, and Fred and Willow were both looking at her, confused, until then Fred was laughing too, and then all three of them were laughing, and that was how Dawn found them a minute later.

“What’s going on?” she asked, looking from person to person.

Tara managed to stop herself laughing. “Nothing,” she said. “Just the Potentials and the Bringer.”

“Was funny?” Dawn asked.

Tara looked at Fred and Willow, who had stopped laughing as well.

“Not really,” Tara said. “I just-- the First came to me earlier. I’m really on edge, and I started them laughing.”

“Sounds as plausible as anything else that happens around here,” Dawn said. “So the girls are back?”

“Yeah,” Willow said. “They came in with a Bringer.”

Dawn laughed. “They brought a Bringer! Does that make them the bringers now?”

Before anyone could respond, though, Kennedy burst into the room. 

“It’s a no-go,” Kennedy said as she walked in. When she noticed Willow, Tara, and Fred, though, she froze up and backed away. “Um, the Bringer’s dumb.”

“How can you tell?” Dawn asked with interest.

“She means it can’t talk,” Anya said. “Tongue’s been cut out.”

“Oh!” Dawn exclaimed. “I’ve been reading this old Turkish spellbook, and there’s this spell that they used to use to communicate with the dying--”

“The Senzic incantation?” Fred asked. “I found that in one of Wesley’s books a while ago. It seemed interesting.”

“Oh, I think I’ve read a translation of that,” Willow said.

Fred and Dawn both turned on her. “There’s a  _ translation _ ?” they said together.

“Whatever. I’m over it,” Dawn said. She explained the spell, and then she asked, “Would that be helpful?”

“We’ll get started right away,” Willow said. She looked at Tara. “Do you want to help?”

Tara nodded.

“Can I watch?” Fred asked.

“If you want to,” Tara said. “It might not be very interesting.”

“I’m curious,” Fred said. “I was really into ancient death rituals when I was a kid. And it’s not like there’s much else to do up here.”

“It’s a party,” Dawn said. “Come on.” 

Tara, Fred, and Willow followed Dawn downstairs as Kennedy started upstairs to find Faith. The Bringer was tied in the corner, and Tara and Willow, by silent agreement, sat about three feet away, facing it. Fred sat a little behind, and Dawn put the spell book between Tara and Willow and backed away. Tara looked at Willow, and Willow looked back, and they both smiled. This was familiar, Tara thought-- everything was different, but here she was, doing spells with Willow, as if they were still college kids trying to figure out what they were doing.

Tara wondered whether Willow had graduated college. She would have had a few weeks left when the apocalypse became a full time job. Would she have to go elsewhere? Tara was a year older than Willow, so she had graduated from UCLA already. But Willow had had the misfortune to be going to college on a Hellmouth, and everyone had evacuated before the year was over.

That was irrelevant to their current mission, though. She looked away from Willow and down at the spellbook, holding her side open with one hand. In unison, she and Willow opened their mouths and began to chant in Turkish.

They managed to get information out of the ritual, via a reluctant and repulsed Andrew, and then Giles was running around bringing Faith into the loop, and then things seemed to be quieting down. Awkward, Tara fiddled with her hands.

“What now?” Fred asked.

“I guess we sleep,” Tara said. “I’m not really tired.”

“Me, either,” Willow said. “That spell had some serious energy.”

“How does that work?” Fred asked. “I thought spells took energy.”

“Some of them do,” Tara said. “Some of them give it.”

“But they have to take it from somewhere else,” Willow said. “It’s all connected.”

“That spell’s energy came from the Bringer,” Tara said. “And I think from Andrew, and from the air around us.”

“Magic is also kind of an energy,” Willow said. “But you have to be careful, because sometimes it’s a really bad energy and then you wind up getting super addicted and your girlfriend breaks up with you and then you de-rat another girl and get deep into a whole really bad scene.”

“How specific,” Tara said.

“Hey, I admit my mistakes,” Willow answered. She looked around. “Anyway, I’ve got to get out of this basement. It’s kind of creepy down here.”

“Agreed,” Fred said.

They went up the stairs. Everyone seemed to be more or less settling down, so they went up one more flight to the top floor. The door to Buffy’s room was open, and Giles was in the doorway, speaking to Faith-- through the space between him and the door, Tara could see Buffy sitting on the bed, deliberately looking in the other direction. The door to Dawn’s room was closed, and when Tara cracked it open and peered through, she saw Dawn on her bed, completely asleep. 

“You can come hang out in my room if you want,” Willow said, her voice low as she glanced at Giles’ back. “I’m not going to sleep for a while.”

“What time is it?” Tara asked.

“Eleven,” Fred said, checking her watch.

“Only eleven?” Willow asked. “I feel like it’s been dark for ages.”

Tara teetered for a moment. 

“I don’t want to bother Dawn,” she finally said. “And I’m not ready for sleep yet.”

“I’ll come too,” Fred said.

“Big party, part two,” Willow joked. She held open the door to her room, and Tara and Fred went through, a little awkwardly. Not ready to sit on the bed, Tara sat on the floor against the wall, looking around. 

“It looks the same,” she said. 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t have a lot of time to redecorate,” Willow said, flopping onto the bed to lie on her stomach, facing Tara and Fred. “If you’re missing any clothes, um, they might still be in the dresser.”

Tara laughed. “I don’t think I’m missing anything big,” she said. “I’m dressed all the time, anyway.”

“That’s good,” Willow said.

“That dress is really pretty,” Fred said, pointing to the back of the door. She had sat down next to Tara, and now she, too, was looking around the room, albeit with different eyes. “Do you ever wear it?”

“It’s too fancy for me,” Willow said. “I wore it when we were all singing, but I think that was more because of the demon trying to make sure we all looked our parts or something. Remember, Tara, you wore a corset?”

“You  _ did _ ?” Fred asked.

“Yeah,” Tara said. “And I looked great, so I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I still don’t know where it came from,” Willow said.

“UC Sunnydale drama department,” Tara said. “I was fixing some costumes for them. I wasn’t really supposed to be wearing any.”

“Ooh, rulebreaker,” Fred said, poking Tara.

Tara crossed her arms. “There was a demon,” she said. “I think it’s not my fault.”

“Definitely not,” Willow agreed. 

“Thank you,” Tara said.

“You’re very welcome.”

For a moment, there was a silence. Then Tara said, quietly, because it was something she had been thinking for a while, “I’m sorry Kennedy broke up with you.”

Willow tensed up at that. “It’s okay,” she said. “I mean, really. It’s not because of you.”

“Are you sure?” Tara asked. “It kind of felt because of me.”

“I mean, fine, it was kind of because of you,” Willow said. “She thought I still liked you. But, I mean, you have a girlfriend now, and you guys seem really good together, so--”

“I do still like you,” Tara said. She looked at Fred, who was clearly cheering her on, and then back at Willow. “But I mean-- I don’t need to do anything. I love Fred, too.”

Willow looked between Tara and Fred, clearly confused.

“You-- you told Fred?” she asked, baffled. “And you’re still together?”

“It’s just more love,” Fred said. “More love isn’t bad. The world needs more love. Especially right now.”

Willow smiled a little. 

“Yeah,” she said. “We do kind of need more love. There’s  _ way _ too much evil out there.”

“And here,” Fred added.

Tara nodded. 

“And since the world’s about to end,” she said, “I’m not risking much in saying these things to you.”

Willow hesitated. 

“Kennedy was right,” she said. “I do still like you. Kind of. Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Tara asked, a smile curving on her lips.

“Maybe definitely,” Willow admitted. “Fine. Yes. Whatever.” She rolled over, looking at the ceiling. 

“We don’t have to do anything,” Tara said. “I mean, we can wait, at least. Until the apocalypse is over.”

“We might all die,” Willow said, still looking at the ceiling.

“We might not,” Tara said. “And if we don’t die, we’ll have to deal with having rushed back into everything.”

“I know,” Willow said. “I don’t want to be all rush-y.”

Tara smiled.

“We’ll work it out,” she said. “Slowly.” She closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall.  _ Now _ she was tired.

“It’s also a reminder,” Willow said, after a moment. “The dress. That was the day after I put that spell on you, and then you found out about it, and it was just all really bad. So I have to have that up there so I remember what happens when I get all addicted. Probably I’d remember anyway, but I want to be safe.”

“I want you to be safe, too,” Tara said.

Fred’s head lolled onto her shoulder, and Tara looked down at her. Fred was snoring softly, the way she did, her nose wrinkling a little with each snore.

“She’s asleep,” Tara said.

“She’s a good one,” Willow said.

“Yeah,” Tara agreed, smiling. “Is it weird if we just sleep here? I don’t want to move Fred.”

“It might be weird,” Willow said, “but I don’t have a problem with it. Do you need some blankets? There are still some in the corner from when Kennedy was on the floor in here.”

“I think that makes it weirder,” Tara said, but she carefully eased Fred to the ground, grabbing the blankets and tucking them around Fred’s side and balling one up for a pillow under Fred’s head. She sat next to the makeshift bed, absently drawing her hand through Fred’s hair. “I feel all strange,” she said. “I’m tired, and I should sleep, but I don’t really want to.”

“Me, too,” Willow said. “I think it’s all because of the apocalypse by now.”

“The spell’s worn off,” Tara agreed. “Do you think any of the others are still up?”

“Probably,” Willow said. “There are kind of a lot of them, so statistically, it would make sense.”

“Right. Statistically.” 

“Probably.” 

In the end, Tara fell asleep leaning against Willow’s wall, somewhere in between talking about apocalypse plans and joking about the new high school. She woke up the next morning curled up on the ground with a blanket tucked around her and quiet voices above her. She sat up, slowly remembering where she was and what was happening. The voices stopped as she did so, but she looked over at the bed and saw Fred and Willow both sitting on it, looking at her.

“Good morning, Tara,” Fred said, sliding off the bed to kiss her.

“Good morning,” Tara said. “Did the world end yet?”

“That’s kind of not on the forecast until tomorrow,” Willow joked. 

“Or it could be the next day,” Fred said. “Or the day after that. We’re not really sure. We’re not meteorologists or anything.”

“You’ve been discussing this?” Tara asked.

“Not really,” Willow said. “I’m kind of on an ignoring everything plan until it all actually happens.”

“Are the girls going back to the vineyard today?” Tara asked.

“They already left,” Fred said.

“No wonder it’s so quiet,” Tara said. 

“They’ll be back soon,” Willow said.

“I hope they’re all right,” Fred added. “I don’t like when I have to use my first aid training.”

“I hope so, too,” Tara agreed. She stood up and stretched, realizing to her chagrin that she was still wearing the previous day’s clothes. “Are my clothes still in Dawn’s room?”

“I brought you some,” Fred said, holding out a shirt and a skirt. “I didn’t know what you wanted to wear, but then I realized probably you didn’t care that much, so I just grabbed the first things I saw that kind of matched.”

“Thanks,” Tara said, taking the clothes. “Um, I’m just going to go change.” 

She stepped out of Willow’s room and into the bathroom, where she changed into the clothes that Fred had brought her. When she stepped out, Fred and Willow were in the hall, and they all went downstairs together. 

Dawn was in the kitchen when Tara, Fred, and Willow got there. Immediately, she turned around in her chair.

“You two didn’t come back to my room last night,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “Is there something I should know?”

Tara shook her head. “No. Nothing-- nothing to know.”

“Yet,” Fred said, mischief in her eyes.

“Shut up,” Willow said, elbowing her.

“Wow,” Dawn said. “You guys are really bad at this. Anyway, I’ll be around. Whenever any one of you feels the need to gossip, let me know.”

“Shut up,” Willow said again.

“You know,” Dawn continued, “I read on the Internet that polygamy’s all the rage these days.”

“It’s not polygamy if you don’t get married,” Fred said. “I don’t know what it’s called when you’re not married. But they wouldn’t let us marry each other anyway.”

“So there  _ is _ something going on!” Dawn exclaimed.

“Not yet,” Tara said. “There’s kind of a whole apocalypse thing we’re focusing on first.”

“Fine,” Dawn said. “But the minute it’s over, I expect some hot gossip.”

“Sure,” Willow said. “So, what’s the deal on research?”

“We figured out that Bringer stuff yesterday,” Dawn said. “So now Faith’s taking all the girls on a recon mission. We’re not sure where Buffy went-- Faith said she left a note, but she didn’t say what it said. She seemed kinda pissed about it, though.”

“Faith and Buffy are always kinda pissed at each other,” Willow said. “What else is new?”

“Good point,” Dawn said. “It’s probably fine. I just hope the girls are okay.”

“They’ll be all right,” Tara said.

Of course, they were not all right, but they did find Buffy. An hour later, she stumbled in with a bunch of Potentials, an unconscious Faith over her shoulder and a weird new weapon in her hand. Tara ran to them immediately, and she and Fred helped maneuver Faith the rest of the way up to Buffy’s room while Kennedy explained what happened, apparently forgetting her bitterness at Tara in favor of helping Faith. Finally, they had Faith lying on Buffy’s bed, and Fred was examining her from head to toe.

“I think she’ll be all right,” Fred said. “She’s a Slayer and all. She’s got that strong constitution. We just need some bandages for her head.”

“We have those,” Willow said, leaving. She came back a minute later with bandages, which Fred applied to the cut on Faith’s forehead as Buffy watched. Kennedy sat at the edge of the bed the whole time, looking scared.

“Is she going to be okay?” she asked.

“She’ll be fine,” Tara said. “She’s seen worse.”

Kennedy nodded. “I know,” she said. “I mean, I heard. Coma.”

Buffy bounced up. “We have things to do,” she said. Suddenly, it was as if she had never left. She exited the room, and Tara, Fred, and Willow followed after. Kennedy stayed, her eyes never leaving Faith.

Downstairs, the Potentials were lost, confused, and worried. Tara tried to reassure them, and Fred gave them some medical opinions that sounded real, although she later confessed to Tara that she had more or less made it up. Willow started making tea, saying that it felt like what Giles would do, and then Giles came in and made a beeline for the tea, which made Tara laugh. 

Finally, everyone had settled down, and Tara was sitting in the dining room, looking over Willow’s shoulder at search results as Buffy hefted her shiny new weapon and Giles paced in the background, asking questions. Finally, Willow clicked a button and came up with more information, and Fred said, “I think I’ve read about that.”

“You have?” Tara asked.

“Yeah,” Fred said. “On some online forum when I was a kid. It was pretty sketchy stuff. Of course, I thought the whole Slayer thing was a myth.”

“Common mistake,” Buffy said.

“I still kind of can’t believe that  _ this _ was the conspiracy that was real,” Fred muttered. “Couldn’t have been Bigfoot. Anyway, the forum was all about, like, Watchers and Guardians and stuff. I don’t really remember. Probably there’s not much that’s not on that webpage.”

“Well, this is talking about some kind of a pagan temple,” Willow said. “Possibly to Egyptian gods. The people who made the website don’t know where it is, but--”

“Maybe it’s in Sunnydale, California?” Buffy asked dryly.

“Sounds like it,” Willow said.

“Cool,” Buffy said, adjusting the scythe. “I’ll go tonight and check it out, I guess.”

At that moment, Kennedy came running into the room, breathless. 

“Faith’s awake,” she said.

“Good timing,” Buffy remarked. “I’ve got a new toy to show her.”

Kennedy nodded.

“I’ll go check on the injured girls,” she said. “Anya and Andrew are in there, but their bedside manners leave something to be desired.”

“Sounds good,” Buffy said. “Thanks, Ken.”

“No problem,” Kennedy said, already on her way out. As if on cue, Andrew poked his head in through the other door.

“Hey, so, Anya and I are going to go to the hospital and see if we can find any medical supplies. We figure it’ll be pretty empty. Like the grocery store.”

“That’s smart,” Fred said.

“Thank you, Fred,” Andrew said. “We’ll be back soon.” 

And then he was gone.

“I’d better go talk to Faith,” Buffy said. “You guys can hold down the fort?”

“Consider it held,” Willow said. 

Buffy smiled a tight, tense smile and left.

“What do we do now?” Tara asked.

“I’m going to look more into this scythe thing,” Willow said. “Fred, I don’t suppose you could find that forum post.”

“Given enough time, maybe,” Fred said. “I remember what site it was on. I don’t know if it’s still up, though.”

Willow backed her chair away from the table and stood up. “Well, you try, and then Tara, we can look more into other Slayer legends, maybe. Where’s Dawn?”

“In the living room,” Tara said. “With the hurt girls.”

Everyone settled down to research. Fred eventually did find the forum post, and Willow had a good time reading the thread.

“We need to take weirdos on the Internet into account more often,” she said, scrolling through.

Tara found some really interesting information on the Slayer magic-- some of it was stuff they already knew, but some was new. By the time Buffy got back, her new information combined with what Willow, Tara, and Fred had found gave the group a relatively full idea of what was going on-- enough that they weren’t completely screwed, anyway. Buffy went off downstairs to talk to Spike, and then Andrew and Anya came back and started dumping bandages everywhere, and Tara and Fred got recruited to help apply them to wounded Potentials.

After that, there wasn’t much to do, so everyone sat in the living room with the hurt girls, trying to pretend there wasn’t an apocalypse going on. Everyone was talking about their regular lives, the ones they had led before they had met their Watcher, or before they had met Buffy, or before they had been transported from the local library into a demon dimension. Somehow, it was the only conversation they could think of that was normal.

“I have two sisters,” one of the Potentials was saying. Her name was Lily, Tara remembered. “One’s younger, and one’s older. I wonder a lot about why I’m the one who came here.”

“I have a sister,” Tara said. “And a brother. But I worry about my sister.”

“You worry about everyone,” Fred said, affectionate. “I have a brother, too. He lives in New Mexico now. He’s an artist. He’s a little older than me.”

“I should be in rehearsal right now,” another Potential-- Vi-- said. “My school play was going to be next week.”

“Show choir was supposed to perform tonight,” Amanda said. “I think I'm the only member left in Sunnydale.”

“You could sing for us,” Fred said. 

“I'm no good without the others,” Amanda explained. “I sing alto.”

“I'm soprano,” Molly said. “I think. I didn't stay in choir long.”

“I'm a tenor,” Andrew said. “I can do the whole Star Wars theme in the right octave and everything. Wanna hear?”

“Maybe later,” Fred said. 

“We should sing, though,” Tara said. “Together. We don't have to do harmony or anything. But singing with people is nice.”

“What's a song everyone knows?” Willow asked.

An argument ensued as everyone in the room gave their opinion of all sorts of songs. Vi wanted something from some musical, Amanda was gunning for a pop song, and Andrew would not give up on the Star Wars theme. It wasn’t until Julie, a quiet girl from somewhere in the south, started singing  _ Amazing Grace _ with such a loud and clear voice that everyone else stopped speaking entirely. By the second line, Amanda and Vi were singing along, and by the third, even the people who had clearly never heard the song were pretending they knew the words. 

Tara sang, too, feeling her voice join in with the others in the way she had always loved. She had always wanted to sing in choir in school; her father had never let her, on the grounds that he didn’t want to have to drive her to after school concerts. But she had still gone to their rehearsals, sometimes, when she could; the choir teacher at her school understood. Tara loved singing. It was the perfect release from her soul.

When the song was over, someone else started up another one, a rousing sort of drinking song. Tara wondered where the Potential had heard it, but it didn’t really matter-- all that mattered was that the lyrics were easy to catch onto, and soon everyone was on board. 

They continued like that for a few hours, well into the night. It was only when Xander came in and asked what the racket was that the group dispersed to their respective sleeping bags, and Tara and Fred followed Dawn and Willow upstairs. 

Tara was awoken the next morning by the sun streaming in through Dawn’s window and by the absence of Fred’s warmth next to her. Curious, she sat up, peeking over at Dawn’s bed-- the covers were rumpled, and Dawn was nowhere to be found. Tara got up and wandered downstairs, vaguely looking for Fred, but mostly looking for some food. The kitchen was empty, which Tara knew meant that there was probably a meeting, and sure enough, she heard voices from the living room. She poured herself a bowl of cereal anyway, and then she moved into the living room, where everyone was piled onto the couches and the floor. Tara squeezed between Fred and the arm of a couch, whispering, “Did I miss anything?”

“Not really,” Fred whispered back. “Buffy’s got a whole plan.”

Buffy was standing in front of everybody, clearly at the beginning of a major speech. Willow was leaning against the wall behind her, looking sweaty and tense, and Xander was next to Willow, fidgeting.

“This is the big one,” Tara murmured to Fred.

And, as it turned out, it was. Buffy had a plan that was so wild it might actually work, and it all hinged on Willow, who looked more and more petrified as Buffy went on. Tara watched her with worry, and when the meeting finally broke up, she made a beeline for Willow.

“Do you need help?” she asked. “With anything?”

“Yes, please,” Willow whimpered. “I have to do a lot of reading, and I have to figure out what magic is really in the scythe, and then I have to hope I don’t go completely off the deep end when it matters most.”

“We’ll help,” Tara said. “Fred and me. We’ll help with all of it.”

“Thanks.” Willow took a deep breath. “To the books?”

“To the books.” Tara turned around, facing Fred. “Fred, do you want to help?”

Fred jumped up. “Of course.”

And that was how Tara wound up sitting with Fred and Willow on Willow’s bed, poring over endless and ancient pages into the night.

“We draw the energy from the girls,” Tara said. 

“And from the earth,” Willow said.

“Aren’t the girls going to run out of energy then?” Fred asked. “Sorry, I’m new and all.”

“It’s a different kind of energy,” Tara explained. 

“And it looks like Potentials have a little bit of untapped Slayer magic in them already,” Willow said. “So we’re just going to tap it.”

“What can I do?” Fred asked.

“We need an anchor,” Tara said. 

“This is big magic,” Willow agreed. 

“What does that mean?” Fred asked.

“Just let us hold on to you,” Tara said. “You have a really solid aura, too, which is good.”

“I have an aura?” Fred asked. “But I don't do that much magic.”

“Everyone does,” Willow said. “Tara’s really good at sensing them.”

“Not that good,” Tara said. 

“She's modest,” Willow added.

“I know,” said Fred, grinning. 

They worked on the spell into the night, until Tara closed her book and said, “We should sleep. This spell needs some major energy.”

“I don't think I can,” Willow said. She looked very small, curled in on herself, peering over her knees at the books in front of her. 

“Try,” Tara said. 

“Hold me?” Willow asked. 

Tara looked at Fred, who nodded. Tara moved to sit behind Willow, rubbing Willow’s shoulders.

“You'll be all right,” she said. 

“What if I’m not?” Willow asked. “I might end the world.”

“We won’t let you,” Tara promised. “I don’t have as much power as you, but I really don’t want the world to end.”

“You stopped yourself last time,” Fred said. “Didn’t you?”

“I pretty much wore myself out,” Willow said.

“So wear yourself out again,” Fred said. “If you use all your energy on making the girls into Slayers, there won’t be any left to spend on ending the world.”

“That’s a good point,” Willow said.

“Let’s not talk about it anymore,” Tara suggested. “Let’s talk about something else.” 

“What are you going to do when all this is over?” Fred asked.

Willow leaned back into Tara, and Tara wrapped her arms around Willow.

“I’m going to sleep,” Willow said. “For a week.”

“I’d like to go camping,” Tara said.

“Camping?” Fred asked.

“Yeah,” Tara said. “It’s quiet outside. There’s just me and the stars. I haven’t had a break for a while.”

“I’d like to go back to school,” Fred said. “I want to get my Ph.D. someday.”

“I’d like to get my bachelor’s degree,” Willow said. “UC Sunnydale is all closed down, but I could transfer to one of the others. Probably I’d have to retake some stuff, though.”

“I might try and go back to UCLA,” Fred said. “You could come with me, if you want.”

“That would be fun,” Willow said.

“I’d come with you,” Tara said. “I could teach in the city. If they’d hire me.”

“Of course they’d hire you,” Fred said. She pushed some books aside and laid on her back, her head landing right next to Tara. “You’re good with kids.”

Tara smiled. “Yeah.” She reached out a hand and ran it through Fred’s hair. “We’re going to have to talk about this,” she said. “Us.”

“Not if we all die in the apocalypse,” Willow groaned.

“We’re busy not talking about that,” Fred said. “We might as well talk about us.”

“You know where I stand,” Tara said. “I like you both. Although, Will, it’ll take time.”

“I know,” Willow said. “But, Fred, if you want to go on a date or something-- I don’t really know how all this works, but I’d like that.”

“I’d like that too,” Fred said. “We can go to a bookstore!”

Tara laughed. “I knew you two would get along.”

In the end, they all fell asleep on top of each other, tossing and turning through what little was left of the night. Tara woke up for real the next morning to Willow stirring next to her, and she had a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. She sat up. When she spoke, it felt distant from herself, somehow.

“Good morning,” she said.

Willow just squeaked. Tara found her hand among the covers and squeezed it. 

“We’re going to do this,” she said, quietly. She looked to the other side and saw Fred, still asleep. She put her other hand on Fred’s shoulder, gently nudging her awake. Fred’s eyes fluttered open.

“Is the world over yet?” she asked.

“Not yet,” Tara said. 

“That’s nice,” Fred said, and she rolled over. Tara tapped her shoulder again.

“The world only won’t end if we make it not end,” she said.

“Fine,” Fred said. “I’ll get up.” 

She looked so disgruntled as she sat up, her hair a dark cloud around her head, that Tara had to laugh. 

When they went downstairs, in varying states of distress, they found everyone else in similar states of distress. It was early in the morning, and sunlight was only just beginning to light the inside of the house. Tara always felt like these hours were secret-- they weren’t meant to be seen.

But today, they were going to break the rules.

Armed with swords and crossbows and a scythe, the group marched out. The Potentials all walked much faster than Tara was accustomed to-- she hung near the back of the group with Fred, out of breath. 

“It’s a good thing we don’t have to fight anything,” Fred said. “I thought these girls didn’t have superpowers yet.”

“They’ve been training for months,” Tara said. “Some of them longer.”

“You’d think they’d want to save their energy,” Fred remarked. “How’s Willow keeping up?” 

Willow was at the front of the group, talking to Xander. 

“She’s been doing it for years,” Tara said. “I still don’t get it.”

When they got to the school, there was a moment of speechifying. Tara grabbed the scythe from Willow, and she and Fred brought their stuff to an empty classroom to set it all up-- they were bringing Vi with them, because they needed a Potential to help activate the spell, and Vi had seemed all right with missing the hardest part of the fighting. She was doing her best to help lay things out, but she really didn’t know what she was doing, so Tara and Fred told her she could just sit and wait.

“Run through some stretches,” Tara suggested. “It might calm you down.”

By the time Willow got there, everything was set up, and Vi was doing the splits in the back of the room. 

“The human body shouldn’t move like that,” Willow remarked, sitting down and pulling the scythe onto her lap. Tara and Fred sat by her, forming a triangle, and they all joined hands.

Tara didn’t remember much about the spell, afterwards. She remembered some chanting, and then a lot of energy, flowing from the earth through Fred and through her and through Willow and into the Potentials, and she could feel the power flowing into every single Potential. For a split second, Tara was every Slayer-- she had the memories, and the power, and she was the chosen one.

And then the power all rushed out of her, and she felt like an empty shell. She looked at Willow, who was waving the scythe at Vi, and at Fred, who just looked stunned.

Vi grabbed the scythe and ran out the door. 

There was a thump as Willow fell to the floor, chuckled, and murmured, “That was nifty.”

Tara managed to stay sitting, but just barely, and Fred looked much more stable. 

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Tara said, still out of breath. “That was kind of a lot.”

“I’ll say,” Fred agreed. “There was a lot of energy just there.”

“Yeah,” Tara said.

“Do you think there’s a way to measure magical energy?” Fred asked.

Tara shrugged. She may not have been collapsed on the floor, but that didn’t mean that she had the energy to even think about any of Fred’s science. 

“You should make one,” she said vaguely.

“I think I will,” Fred said.

There was nothing to do now but wait. Tara closed her eyes and tried to feel the auras of the new Slayers below, but she couldn’t get more than the faint hum of power. She hoped, desperately, that the battle was going well, and that maybe the girls she had come to know and love in the last few weeks would come back upstairs after all was said and done.

After ten more tense minutes, during which Tara and Fred packed their ingredients back into their bag, there was a rumbling from below. Tara jumped up, shaking Willow until Willow pushed herself into a sitting position.

“Is the world over yet?” she asked, clearly dazed.

“Not yet,” Tara said.

Out in the halls, Potentials were running past, and that wasn’t a good sign, but Tara didn’t mention that-- she just said, “We should get out.”

Hoisting their bag over her shoulder, Fred stood, and Tara followed, letting Willow lean on her. By the time they reached the door, Willow was supporting herself, and the Potentials weren’t running so fast that Tara was worried. They had made a plan for this scenario, anyway-- Tara knew where everyone was going.

It only took them a few precious, precious minutes to get outside, where a school bus full of Slayers was waiting. Tara, Fred, and Willow piled on, collapsing into a seat in the front of the bus.

“Guess we’re not cool,” Fred joked, with a breathy giggle. “Sitting in the front.”

Despite everything, Tara smiled.

As the bus started moving, Tara became aware that Buffy wasn’t on it. A huge grief began to crush her chest-- Buffy had been through more than all of them, and if she hadn’t made it out, that would have felt like the universe was really conspiring against them, even if the world didn’t end. But then Dawn was shrieking at the back of the bus, and not in sadness, and Tara peered out the window and saw Buffy running along the tops of buildings, so she stopped worrying and let herself relax, rolling her head onto Fred’s shoulder. For minutes, everything was silent as the bus raced away from Sunnydale High, and as everyone on board held their breath, hoping that the whole world wasn’t about to drop away from underneath them.

As it turned out, it wasn’t the whole world; it was just Sunnydale. The bus stopped at the edge of a hole in the earth, and everyone piled out, suddenly chattering animatedly. Tara walked right up to the edge, feeling for a moment like she might fall in. She wavered there for a moment, and then she felt someone’s hand in hers, and she turned and saw Willow. Fred came up on her other side, and Tara smiled at them both in turn.

“Does this mean we have to actually talk about things?” Willow asked.

“I guess so,” Tara said, feeling like her life was starting again.


End file.
